In need of some elves. . .


Last year, by Thanksgiving, I was almost finished with my Christmas shopping.
This year, I have barely started. I get to say “barely” because I’ve ordered one thing for my husband.

Is it me, or is it hard to get excited about buying things right now? And, I have no ideas for the kids. None. This is not good since half of the family waits for me to post a wish list for the kids so that they know what they want.

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that if my kids didn’t get a single gift between now and the new year, their lives would be just fine. But that is just a little too “bah, humbug” for me.

You’d never know they don’t need anything by listening to D. “I want that!” he yells excitedly every time he sees a commercial or a toy store circular. God help me if I have to walk him into a mall between now and Christmas.

My oldest wants a Nintendo DS. I thought this would cost about the same as a LeapPad but I was wrong. Apparently, at 7, she now falls into the “expensive gadgetry” age. But, do I want to get her this? Considering I’m not sure what “this” is, no.

Jilly wants another American Girl doll. She has one from our trip to New York City a couple of years ago (the link will take you to the post I unfortunately decided to call “Wait Til You See This Wiener!“). Does she need another one? Absolutely not. Do I have any other ideas? Nope.

I’m thinking it will be a Christmas of clothes, books and crafts. Hopefully my children will someday forgive me.

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btw, “clothes and books” under the tree would thrill me (note the absence of “crafts”); it’s just not that thrilling for the kids.

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also, I’m starting a little offshoot to this blog called Fairly Odd Reviews (don’t click yet, it’s hideous right now!). Whenever I find something I love, or if I ever get around to doing paid reviews, I will post it here. Since I’m just getting it started, let me know if there is anything you’d like me to review. If I can do it, I will.

How do you know you are done?

Our reasons for having three children are as follows:

* we wanted a larger family, but since I had my first at 33, we knew we were a bit limited by the ticking of time;

* I was 37 when I had my son (#3) and I didn’t want to be pregnant or nursing after 40 (no good reason; I wanted to go away drinking with my girl friends);

* my body was done, done, done after #3’s birth. Also, mentally, a fourth would have sent my high-strung, Type A personality over the edge.

So, once we knew that our little guy was healthy, Fairly Odd Father made sure that there would be no more bambinos. He’s a good guy to have taken care of that.

Four years later, I can say that this was the right choice for us. I know a few people who have had babies lately and, while I love, love, love being around them, I don’t wish I had a baby of my own right now. For one, I’m finally getting a decent night’s sleep and, also, (drum roll) we have ended the Era of the Diaper.

Plus, I’m ready for a dog. And probably another kitten (sorry, Cally—my 17 year old deaf cat—just thinking ahead a bit). Oh, and then there is my slight obsession with chickens.

So, are you done or not? Or not sure? Do you think you’ll ever be sure? (and, I realize that this choice isn’t always in your hands. If we had wanted a fourth, I don’t think I could physically done it, which bums me out a bit.)

My VBAC Stories

I am not a huge risk-taker when it comes to my health. I floss. I get regular check-ups. I wear a seat belt, don’t swim alone and eat well.

So, it was a bit out of character when I took a risk by insisting on having a VBAC over a second C-section.

Back in 2003 when I was about to have baby #2, I had no idea that VBAC’s were so controversial that over 300 U.S. hospitals refuse to let a woman choose this birthing option. All I knew was that I didn’t want another C-section.

Two years prior, in 2001, my first child was born via an emergency C-section after an otherwise ordinary labor (Belly was a Frank breech that wasn’t discovered until I was 10cm dilated). The C-section went well, and I will forever be grateful that I had doctors available to do the surgery immediately.


But, my recovery was tough. Pain, limited movement, pain, trying to nurse, exhaustion and more pain. Suffice to say that I did not want another C-section if I could at all avoid it.

My midwife was hopeful when I told her my plans for a VBAC. My first labor had gone perfectly, and there was no sign that my body could not have delivered my 8 1/2 pound baby girl naturally if she had just turned herself the correct way.

The OB in the office, though, was not as understanding. I had to listen to lectures about uterine rupture, infant death, maternal death and other not-so-pleasant side effects, as well as sign a multi-page waiver of responsibility from the hospital. I signed. And, while my long labor with Baby #2 was very, very hard, I felt so awesome after having my chubby Jilly. I knew that I had done the right thing in deciding to have a VBAC.


By the time I was ready to have D, just 18 months later, there weren’t any lectures or scary stories. In fact, that same OB who had warned me of possible death was the one who delivered my 9-pound son, and watched me walk around the delivery room within the hour.


I write this not to say that all women should have VBAC’s, or that I think C-sections are “bad”. My C-section was as glorious an experience as my VBAC’s—when my beautiful newborns were held up for me to see, the entire birthing experience immediately became perfect.

But, to say that VBAC’s are too dangerous and C-sections are all safe is not fair. I’ve met women who would like to have more than three children, but have been told that they cannot since repeated C-sections cause a buildup of scar tissue that can later rupture. I have a friend who had this happen to her as she left the hospital with her third C-section baby, and her story sent shivers down my spine.

I know women who wanted to have a VBAC but didn’t because their doctors made rupture sound common, even thought the percentage is very small. There were others who went to hospitals that flat out refused to consider a VBAC.

Ultimately, how the babies got out of me is not nearly as important as the fact that they are here now, healthy and happy. But, I‘m also glad that I was able to make an educated choice on how they entered this world instead of being forced to follow a blanket hospital policy.

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I’d like to thank my Twitter friend, MothersWork, for bringing this topic up today.